Sorta like 7-Eleven
by Rat
Summary: Various short stories featuring Connor and Murphy. And probably lots of swearing and gratuitous violence, because this is Boondock Saints.
1. How To Save A Twin

**How to Save a Twin**

* * *

There were tons of crazy shit that arrived in the mail. Fan mail. Fucking crazy. There were women out there who wanted to marry them. The brothers tossed those letters aside first. There were letters of support; people telling their horror stories about things that had been done to them by the evil men in the world and saying how they felt safer when the brothers had been out on the streets. There were letters from journalists asking for interviews. There was hate mail.

And then there was a letter from their cousin Brianna. They didn't have a cousin Brianna. She wrote about how the last time she'd seen them she hadn't had a chance to say goodbye, and that she had good news this time, the baby would be born in seven months.

"It's a code." Connor said.

Murphy looked at the letter carefully. "It's just another nutcase."

It was a stupid code, but it was clear, at least to Connor. There were plans in the works.

Seven months.

"Next thing you know you're going to sell our story to some tv movie of the week or something." Murphy scoffed.

_But Connor knew._

This place wasn't good for either of them. Neither of them could survive in here for twenty years like their father did, but Connor was especially worried for Murphy. The guards were mostly decent; both of them already knew who could be trusted and who was in the mob's pocket. Not even all the inmates were against them, but there were plenty who were. For that reason alone they were allowed to stay together. There had been talk at first about sending them to different facilities, but everyone knew separation would be as good as a death sentence for both brothers.

Even so, all it took was a broom stick wedged through the handles of the kitchen door. Connor was locked in the kitchen. Five men surrounded Murphy. Connor beat the door bloody by the time the guards arrived. Murphy put up a strong fight and took two of the men down, but he couldn't keep it up against all of them. Connor watched his brother fall, and he watched the blood start to pool on the floor. The guards broke up the fight. Murphy wasn't moving.

It didn't matter that he'd been defending himself. Rules were rules. After a brief stay in the infirmary, Murphy was moved to solitaire for a week as punishment for fighting. The five other men who'd been involved received the same penalty.

On the morning of the eighth day Connor woke up to the bars of his cell sliding open, and Murphy walked in with his head down. With a loud clang the door slid shut.

Murphy sat beside Connor on the bed close enough that their knees touched.

"Hey." Connor said. Murphy looked up but didn't otherwise react. The last time Connor had seen his brother was through the small glass pane of the kitchen doors.

The bruises were already fading but the shadows under his brother's eyes told a whole other story. He put a hand on Murphy's back. "You okay?" Connor asked.

Murphy nodded. The look Connor saw in his brother's eyes chilled him to the bone. He'd never seen his brother look so hardened.

...

The day passed like any other. They ate, they worked, they went outside for their brief yard time, and ate again. Each time they walked near one of the men who'd participated in Murphy's beating, Murphy's eyes narrowed and took on the same look as earlier.

That night in their cell, Connor waited for Murphy to say something to him. He didn't have to wait long.

"They told me you were next." Murphy whispered. "I told them if anyone tries, I'm killing every last one of them."

They weren't going to make it another seven months. Connor had no doubt he and his brother would survive just fine, it was the light in Murphy that Connor was afraid for. It was the hope, gentleness, enthusiasm for life, and everything Connor loved about his brother that was at risk of being snuffed out.

He also knew how to save his brother. Connor said softly. "I don't think I can do this."

"Did something happen while I was gone?"

"No, Murph, nothing happened."

"We'll be okay." Murphy assured him. "What about that letter? The one from cousin Brianna? Seven months, right?"

"I thought you didn't believe that."

"There might be something to it. Maybe." Murphy allowed.

All their lives they followed the same cycle; if one twin was weak, the other stayed strong. Connor knew, the only way he could save Murphy was to make Murphy save him.

"It isn't that long, Conn." Murphy promised. They both knew it was long enough for a whole world of bad things to happen, but together they would get through it just like they did everything. Connor would make sure of it.


	2. Hide Out In the Woods

"What the fuck are we doing out here?"

"Stop your fucking whining, you sound like an old woman."

"Shut the fuck up."

And so it went. The wind howled through the trees, and the blowing snow stung their eyes and cheeks. Connor could barely feel his feet and the damn scarf he was wearing was wet with condensation from his breath. The night was dark, no moon, no stars, just a small patch of glowing pink sky off in the distance above the nearest town and their crappy flashlight leading the way along the side of the road.

The letter had included a map and the instructions; _go wait at this location_. And Connor naively believed that whomever it had been that pulled off a fucking miracle and busted them out of Hoag wasn't leading them into a fucking death trap.

Of course, Murphy being the good brother he was said exactly what he thought of it all being insane and unnecessary. "Why should we bother hiding out in the middle of the woods in the middle of winter when a warm room at a ski resort would be just as good a hide out? Everyone will be wearing goggles and ski masks and all kinds of shit, no one will know it's us."

Connor wished he'd taken Murphy's ski resort idea more seriously as he pulled off his gloves and shined the flashlight at the map again. On the map it had looked like a short distance. The car slid off the road and into a snow bank at the turn a couple miles back when they'd left the main highway. Walking had seemed like a better option than sitting in the car freezing their asses off while waiting for the police to drive by and recognize them.

"How far away did you say it was?"

"Shut it. I didn't." Connor lied. He'd said it was about a mile, about a mile or so ago. The only landmarks around here were trees, and snow, and more trees. He shoved the paper back into his pocket and pulled his gloves back on. "It shouldn't be much farther."

Who could tell how far anything was when everything around looked just like everything else. The snow and ice crunched under their boots and he turned around as he saw Murphy slip on the ice for about the hundredth time. Connor kept walking and could hear Murphy cursing behind him as he caught up.

They rounded another curve in the road and stopped. There was the driveway, marked by a little sign with a wiggling fish on it and the slogan, gone fishing. Lot 262. This was it. It looked like someone had made the effort lately to have the driveway plowed, but the blowing snow was already making new drifts. The lane led up a small hill.

"You see, I told you it wasn't far."

"Looks like the opening credits of a horror movie. Escaped prisoners walking up to a dark deserted cabin in the woods. Then fucking freeze to death. A few years later a group of idiot teenagers come camping and one by one disappear, victims of the prisoner's ghosts." Murphy grumbled.

"Sounds like a shit movie." Connor laughed.

"Just like coming here was a shit idea." At least on the way up the hill the trees on either side of the lane broke a lot of the wind. It took about ten seconds for Murphy to take advantage of that and light himself a cigarette.

At the top of the hill there were two small buildings. A shed with a overhanging roof to protect the pile of firewood there, and a small cabin.

Murphy pushed his foot around in the snow by the front door and found a small gnome figure, just as the letter from their mysterious benefactor described there would be, he picked it up and pulled out the key wedged into the plastic underneath and unlocked the door. Inside was dark and silent. They stomped some of the snow off their boots and entered.

The air inside was just as cold as the air outside. There was already a small pile of logs and kindling and newspaper beside the wood stove and Murphy stood back and finished his cigarette while Connor worked on starting a fire. Light flared for a minute while the paper burned and then the sticks began to catch, and finally the log.

The cabin wasn't big. Connor shined the light around briefly and they could see there were a couple of futons, a square kitchen table that could fit two, and a tiny kitchen counter with cupboards. Murphy settled down on one of the futons, pulled off his boots, and lied down with his jacket still on. Connor followed his lead on the futon opposite.

"Kind of reminds me of the sheep farm." Connor mused.

But Murphy was already asleep.


	3. One Step At A Time

**One Step At a Time**

* * *

From where Murphy pretended to be sleeping on the futon he could hear his brother fidgeting. He closed his eyes in a vain attempt to go from pretending to sleep to actually sleeping. He was tired. He'd been tired for days and it felt like all he ever did was sleep, but then, what else was there to do?

The first day after the blizzard they took some shovels from the shed and walked back to the car to dig it out of the snow bank they'd driven it into. The engine had started that day, but not since parking it in the lane.

With nowhere to go and nothing to do, it didn't take long for either of them to get cabin fever.

Something whacked him in the back of the head and Murphy reached around and whipped it right back at his brother. Turned out to the be the old romance novel they'd found in the cupboard, and it didn't make a very effective projectile. "What the hell's your problem?"

"We're out of peanut butter, Rip Van Winkle."

Murphy sighed. "So?"

"Let's go get some."

"Now?"

Connor looked around the cabin dramatically. "It's a fucking beautiful day out there. I'd have thought you'd be more eager to get out and enjoy the fresh air after being cooped up in Hoag so long."

Murphy sat up and yawned. "You couldn't have waited for me to wake up?"

"It's two in the afternoon, how long am I supposed to wait? Come on, it will be good to get out and see what the town is like."

Murphy pointed over at the patio doors leading to the back deck. "We can see the town just fine from here. Doesn't look like much."

The top part of a steeple was visible poking out over a line of evergreens and that was it. Connor gave Murphy a look and Murphy shrugged back at him.

"And we're almost out of cigarettes."

"You should have said so. How did you get the car started?"

"I didn't. We can walk across the lake." Connor tossed Murphy a wool hat, and with a half hearted grumble Murphy followed. Connor was right, it was nice outside and there wasn't even a lot of wind today. Some of the snow was even melting on the back deck.

The lake looked safe enough to walk over and the ice felt solid. There were plenty of snowmobile trails everywhere, and they chose a relatively straight one to walk along where the snow was well packed. In a few places the snow had been blown away completely leaving bare ice. Connor ran ahead and slid about five feet.

"Come on."

Murphy looked at the ice, and then looked at his brother. He nodded, got ready, took a step... and slipped and fell on his back. "Fuck."

Connor doubled over laughing, and every time Murphy re-lost his balance while trying to get back up he laughed even harder. Finally, sick of falling on his ass, Murphy crawled over to a patch of snow to use as traction under his feet. And still Connor was laughing.

Murphy brushed off his jeans, and carefully shuffled his way towards his twin. "That next patch of ice over there. Both at once, and we'll see who slides farthest."

Connor nodded. "You're on."

They stood side by side in the snow for a moment and then started running. At the ice they slid. Murphy fell again before barely even getting started, but Connor slid right into it a patch of slush and landed on his ass with a splash.

"Fucking perfect." Connor cursed. He got up and brushed his hands over the water and ice on his pants.

Murphy wiped at his eyes from laughing so hard. "Good thing we're not far from town then."

"Fuck that, I'm going back." Connor looked back across the lake. "We'll get the peanut butter tomorrow."

"And the smokes." Murphy added.

Connor took a step and stopped dead. The ice started to crack and cave in around him.

Murphy saw it at the same time and froze. "Shit."

Very slowly, Connor took a step toward Murphy and the ice cracked again, bringing forth a fresh layer of water up through the cracks and into the slush around his boots. He moved again, this time sliding his feet forward in an effort to keep his weight distributed. The ice kept sinking with him as he moved.

Murphy ran towards his brother. He stood at the very edge of where it was safe and reached out his hand and urged Connor to keep moving. It was just ten steps. "Just keep moving. Carefully."

"Of course I'm moving fucking carefully. Fuck." Connor took a deep breath, moved another foot forward, testing the ice for a moment before putting more weight on it. Another sliding step. Another step, he was going to make it. It cracked again. He was halfway there. Another step, and the ice cracked again, opening up under his left foot. Connor tried to adjust and retreat backwards, but it was too late, his left foot went in and the ice around his right foot gave way a second later.

Murphy froze as his brother disappeared under the water.

He threw himself down and stretched out towards the hole in the ice to reach his twin, not caring about how safe it was or not. Everywhere was slush and broken ice. Connor resurfaced, gasping for breath and treading water.

He swam to edge of ice and tried to push himself up but the ice broke off around him. He swept the ice away from himself with his arm and tried again for the edge, but was only able to pull himself up to the chest before losing his grip and sliding back in.

Murphy reached out as far as he could. "Come on. Get back up." He grabbed his brother's fingers, but in the process of pulling Connor towards him only managed to slide even closer to the water.

Connor noticed and let go of Murphy's hand. "Back the fuck off!"

Murphy reached out and grabbed Connor's wrist before he could pull away again. He dug his toes into the ice and braced himself on his other arm to keep from moving forward again while dragging his brother up.

"The ice is going to break. Let go!" Connor shouted.

Murphy's response was to just hold on tighter. He would hold on whether he could pull his brother up or not. He would hold on until the end of the world if he had to. "Shut the fuck up and help."

He felt Connor push forwards and at the same time he pulled his arm back as hard as he could, dragging Connor halfway up into the ice. Still gripping his brother's wrist he rolled away from the edge and managed to drag Connor up completely.

They lay together on the ice for a moment before Murphy got up in his knees and grabbed the collar of Connor's jacket and pulled him further from the open water.

"Jesus Christ." Murphy breathed.

"Lords name." Connor muttered.

Murphy reflexively made the sign of the cross. He laid a hand his brother's chest, he could feel his brother shivering from the cold. "Can you get up?"

Connor rolled onto his side and pushed himself up to sitting. He looked up at Murphy and they met each other's eyes. Murphy could see a lot in that look; how close they'd just come to dying, and how much they meant to each other.

Then Connor reached out and punched Murphy's arm. "Next time I tell you to back off, you fucking listen."

"You and what army?" Murphy shot back as he got up.

"This army you idiot." Connor managed to push himself up to his feet.

"We're not that far from the cabin." Murphy said looking back. They'd already walked about a third of the way across the lake. It would take at least fifteen minutes to get back the way they came, and probably twice that to reach the town.

They managed about five minutes of walking before Connor started to falter. Murphy tucked his arm around Connor's back to help steady him and urge him onwards.

Connor's teeth were chattering and his hands were shaking and his face was nearly as pale as the snow around them. Murphy was scared.

Connor fell, dragging Murphy down with him into the snow. Murphy wrapped his arms around Connor's waist and pulled him back up into his feet.

"We have to keep going. You've been through worse. Remember that time I puked on you at the fair after I ate that whole stick of blue candy floss? We had to take the bus through town and the smell of it made everyone around us gag."

"My own fault. I dared you to eat it." Connor added.

"And there's the time you jumped off Uncle Sibeal's roof."

"Fuck." Connor whispered, and he moved his feet forward.

Murphy slung his brother's arm over his shoulder and focused on one step at a time. "You limped around for two days before Ma noticed and dragged you into emergency. I thought they were pulling your leg right off the way you screamed when they adjusted your knee. This is a walk in the park compared, right Conn?"

"R-right." Connor answered and stumbled again. Murphy pulled him right back up.

"No resting. One step at a time." He could feel his brother shivering. "Think of something other than the cold. Be pissed off at me, that'll get your mind off it." Murphy offered. With every step it felt like Connor was getting heavier.

"Y-you just saved my f-fucking life. How c-could I be pissed at y-you?" Connor asked breathlessly.

"You were pissed off at me just a minute ago, remember? I could have gotten us both killed if I fell in after you." He thought about it for a minute. "Remember that action figure of Hans Solo you had? The one you thought you lost? I melted its face with a magnifier glass and buried it in the garden so you wouldn't know what I did."

"And that rash you got in your pants just before your date with Anna on our sixteenth birthday? I rubbed poison ivy in your shorts." Murphy took a deep breath and kept going. "I was mad you were going out on our day." All he got in response was an unintelligible grunt, but it was better than nothing. With each tidbit of past recriminations Murphy felt his brother pick up just a little bit, and he decided his strategy to get Connor's adrenaline going by pissing him off must be working.

But they weren't there yet.

Murphy adjusted his hold on Connor and chanted to himself his new mantra. _One step at a time. One step at a time. _ "Don't be such a fucking pussy. What the hell would Ma say if she could see you now? She'd say, thank fuck you're the oldest, Murph. I always knew you'd take care of your little brother." He really felt Connor twitch on hearing that one. "You can beat on me once we're inside. Or at least you can try. No resting yet." Murphy looked up ahead and felt relief that they were almost at the cabin.

He pulled Connor up the steps to the back deck. He pushed open the door and dragged Connor inside and finally lowered his twin down to the floor.

"Don't make me have to take you to a hospital. You know how much I hate those places. Right? You wouldn't do that to me would you?" Murphy rambled as he threw a few logs in the wood stove. He pulled his brother's jacket off and tossed it in the corner. All the wet clothes got peeled off and tossed in the same pile.

"Help me out if you feel like it." Murphy teased and helped Connor over to the futon to lie down. He piled all the blankets on top of him and stood back a moment to think things through. Connor was still shivering like he was going to jump out of his skin.

"They say body contact is supposed to work, right?" Murphy had taken his own damp jacket off as soon as he'd entered the cabin. He pulled off his shirt and crawled onto the futon behind Connor and wiggled as close as he could get so that Connor's back was pressed against his chest.

He wrapped his arms around Connor, placing his palms flat against his brother's rib cage. It took a minute, but Connor eventually relaxed against him, and brought his own icy hands up to place against Murphy's.


End file.
